Wait for Me
by Tallgent
Summary: Bittersweet Spuffy series of vignettes leading up to the final battle of Sunnydale.
1. Chapter One: The Night Before

Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon and Mutunt Enemy. I'm just playing in Joss's playground.

Chapter One: The Night Before

Buffy felt the sun hit her naked back. Ordinarily, she would indulge in the warmth and let the sleep caress her again. But she opened her eyes and saw that nothing would ever be ordinary again. Things were very different.

Mind-bogglingly, kid-in-candy-store different.

But her eyes had just now caught up with what the nerve endings told her. She was resting her head comfortably and directly on another head. With arms and limbs very much enfolded around each other's unclothed persons. And this particular individual's skin and countenance gleamed. Cheekbones chiseled. Hair bleached for so long that to find it as anything but would set off all sorts of warning signals. Like when she first saw him in that basement after what he…

Her lip quivered and her eyes glistened.

…After what he did for her.

So bright an angel had he become. If God would have welcomed it, he could have taken Lucifer's place as the brightest of them. Surely he had done the devil one better. Humbly acting as her lieutenant in this war that would commence in a few short hours. But more importantly giving of himself, his love, his devotion. All for her. Just for her.

She didn't deserve it. She didn't understand it. But she welcomed it. And in these last nights she did her best, in her own limited, closed-off way, to share it. To give back. It was clumsy. But somehow or other they got it right when they needed to.

But her angel….her Champion needed the dark to survive. The sun would burn him. Kill him.

She gingery pulled the blanket over his head, got out of bed, and pulled the blinds shut to the basement window.

She stood in naked glory, unashamed, staring at the vampire who sought a soul for her. The one she was not afraid to call her lover.

Though just as it was with him so many times in their past at each other's throats, it took the words of an enemy in the First to realize it.

Yes. Spike is her lover.

With each step she flashed back to last night.

She closed the distance between them and sank into him, holding onto him like the lifeline he had become. Unacknowledged before, unappreciated, yet still just being there for her. Slowly, tentatively his arms enveloped her, gently stroking her back in comforting glides. She buried her face in his chest and wished for time to just stop. Stop and let the moment be theirs to live for an eternity.

No more reason to hide behind insecurities and doubts. Pain. None of that mattered. In this moment they could elevate this…whatever they had into something more. She couldn't articulate what it was they shared. She could afterwards.

Then she stepped back and kissed his scar, his head, his cheeks, and finally brought her lips questing to his mouth. He flinched back for a second, but Buffy kept with it, meeting his eyes. Smiling softly and intimately like that moment in the caves. When she had rescued him. She had so much to make up for. That moment was the start.

But now it was time. Before endgame came and they had to suffer through one more hell, tonight they could make their heaven.

"It's okay. Let me be with you tonight," she whispered.

Something in the vampire broke. All the hesitation disappeared and his lips met with hers. So softly. So reverently. Her body responded, aching to fill the physical need that awakened itself with renewed vigor. Followed by a heart that beat with resplendent joy after long dormant disconnection.

Her lips worshipped him. Each peck a prayer for his safety and thanks for his unquenchable love. Spike cradled her, their foreheads leaning together. She laughed liquid tears and Spike smiled gently with his own goofy chuckling. Then sweeping propriety aside, her vampire lover hoisted her up in his arms, twirled her around, and carried her laughing to the cot.

She should have kicked Faith out of her room.

He laid her down and just like in the crypt when Riley found out, she took her time undressing him, treating him with respect. Spike did the same, slowly unbuttoning her blouse while he trailed kisses down her torso, undoing her bra. She shook herself out of it and he laid it to the side. Then allowing his greed to surface buried his face into her breasts drinking of the sweet ambrosia, licking and sucking the nubs. Buffy moaned in pleasure and allowed her hands to drift to his jeans feeling his purchase. She unbuttoned his jeans and he knelt up and out of bed temporarily to shove them down. Then returned the favor to her own pants. She anxiously stripped herself of those as well.

Finally, they were completely unadorned. In the past. In their own shortcomings. All that mattered was right now.

But for the moment before they engaged in overdue love-making, they just gazed at each other. So similar, yet very different from that first time. His eyes, of course, soul or no soul, have not changed. Still as adoring and overwhelmed as ever. So much of him the man she never let herself know until this year. It didn't have to be that way. For it to be this hard.

Or maybe it did.

Buffy's eyes though swam in his azure pools. She was distant then, defiant in her actions. Literally her greatest "Fuck You!" But now there is nothing but humble awe and joy. She stares into him, boring into his soul. No. No, he's letting her in. He's opening himself up now in ways she never thought he could.

They both are.

But eventually, the need itself calls for action and they engage. They unite. Meeting in the middle from their volcanic and volatile farce of a relationship last year they begin anew here. She meets him at his point and they become as one being, connected through their passion. Their need.

Dare Buffy say it, their love.

But she can't. Not yet.

And suddenly all that has gone on before becomes dignified. It becomes not just singular tumors that taint the body and soul of this thing they have fought hard to save. But necessary steps taken toward this moment. It was all worth it. The pain. The agony. All led to this earned moment between them.

And she doesn't waste it. She implores him with her eyes to not break the contact. He rests his head against hers and allows his involuntary gasps to increase. She meets his pace and gives just as much, her arms and hands clinging to his upper arms. Her breath betrays effort given, energy spent. But it's symbiotic now. They give and take equally. Just like that old Beatles song that he sang to her that one night…when she acted annoyed with it.

One last time. One last exertion, a moan and gasp. And then they breathe as one on the release. He cannot speak. And she cannot even move her mouth to form words. It hangs open taking in gulps of oxygen and expending air. Spike mouths "oh, God!" he closes his eyes and Buffy fears that he's broken the connection. But his mouth engulfs hers and she allows the chaste kiss to become deeper. Suddenly this sacred, special bond increases in secret rapture. The melding of the souls is joined in with the flesh. Now all that cries out is physical want and need. Their mouths duel and bite. Teasing. She throws her head back and cradles his as he trails lusty kisses down her neck, nipping and biting, She grits her teeth. Holds tight for leverage. The bedsprings bounce in wanton rhythm. She sings his name in intimate tones. Their own private arias. Their own beautiful music.

Again their mouths meet and the dance goes on the whole night. Uninterrupted. And blissful. And always they stare at each other. Pondering. Questing. Adoring. When it ends they hold each other never losing contact. Finally their eyes lose the battle. But she feels the comfort of arms blanketing her from the uncertainty of the following day. While she holds his beautiful form in her own comforting arms. And they find their peace and rest together.

Like heaven.


	2. Chapter Two: Breakfast Bonding

She had tried to slip in for five more minutes of peace before they had to prepare. But as she uncovered the vamp his blue eyes blazed at her.

"Boo," he said softly.

Buffy chuckled and shook her head. There goes that plan.

"How much time do we have?" he asked. She was hoping for a "good morning", but things were already too grim for that, she supposed.

"Sun just broke, hence your going under covers."

"Sheet over my head? Ain't dead yet."

Buffy frowned. "Don't say that please. Even when you're joking."

Spike smiled in apology and pushed her golden silky strands back. God, but she was beautiful. "After, then?"

Buffy laughed. "Yeah. After's fine. That's the special word. After."

Spike sat up and rubbed his hand through his curly messed up hair. "After it is."

He turned back to his Slayer. "We should eat something and," he realized his nudity. "Dress in something as well."

"Good thing you've got vampire sight in this dark basement," she quipped. "Hate for you to put on my thong underwear by mistake."

Spike shrugged. "You'd be surprised how well they fit, love. Nice and snug-like."

Buffy looked back at the vamp wryly. Kinkiness was nothing new to them. It's amazing how comfortable she was now with it. Maybe because she knew there was more behind it now.

More behind them.

"If wearing my underwear brings us good luck in this thing, you're welcome to my push-up, too."

Spike's tongue grazed his teeth. "Ooooh, Slayer. New games for us to play?"

Buffy winked at him and kissed him on the top of his head, mussing his bleached top. "After. For now let's eat."

Stealth and sure-footedness had its advantages, most of them experienced at night during patrol. Or for Spike in the way-back-when, on the hunt.

But Buffy and Spike never thought they'd have to use it getting into the kitchen. Or sneak past human booby traps made up of sprawled, snoring teenage girls and her oldest friends. She and Spike shared a bemused grin and tiptoed to their food-filled destination. But Buffy stopped to place a call to Robin to remind him to bring the bus for transport.

Spike, meanwhile, entered the kitchen and checked the cupboards. After scanning through sugar encrusted cavity inducers courtesy of General Mills he settled on something a bit healthier. He brought out the cereal and some milk. Then swiped a banana off the counter.

Settling in, he poured the cereal and milk. He began breaking off pieces of banana when Buffy strode in. Curious as to the kind of cereal Spike was eating she lifted the box and grinned widely. She set down the box of Wheaties and plopped down in a chair beside him.

Spike was about ready to feast when he paused and sheepishly pushed the bowl toward Buffy. Wordlessly insisting this wasn't up for debate, Buffy resignedly took the breakfast with a nod. Spike went to get some blood, but Buffy stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. With a brief fond rub, she rose to retrieve some pig's blood and filled the mug. Putting it into the microwave, she hit the starter. And paced awhile around the kitchen, allowing the memories to flood back in. Her mom. Dawn. Xander and that stupid jar he couldn't open (neither could she.) That one Christmas dinner they had together. And, of course, the vampire she had subdued courtesy of wooden spoon with Angel standing slightly to the side.

The same vampire she was handing his heated up nectar to.

She took out the mug and served Spike his blood, an odd, incongruous combination with hot chocolate that Spike had managed to pull off as only he could. The secret according to him? Burba weed.

He nodded a quiet thanks and she resumed her place at his side thoughtfully eating her cereal while Spike drank his blood concoction. Both silent and comfortable. Letting their close proximity do the talking for them..

Spike sat the empty cup down and waited for Buffy to finish. She slurped down the milk and placed the bowl down on the table. Spike swiped his thumb along the corner of her mouth where some stray milk had wandered away from the meal that was journeying to her belly. Laughing slightly she lightly slapped his hand away. Then he gently rose and took her bowl, spoon, and his mug to put into the sink.

But Buffy's hand reached out for his arm and it wouldn't let go.

Spike set the dishes down and took her hand gently in his own, their fingers entwined and she wrapped his arm around her, his face sliding next to hers. Gently they rocked in hypnotic rhythm. One last calming motion before frantic chaos would descend on them. He whispered soft encouragements in her ear in breaths only she could understand, ending finally with "okay?"

She nodded, her face strangled in quiet fear. But she nodded and smiled sadly.

They kissed each other on the cheek and he left to prepare.

Buffy collected herself, swept her hands across her face vigorously, and forced herself to focus. She checked the kitchen clock.

It was time.


	3. Chapter Three: Leaving Summers' Place

Giles and Robin leaned up against the bus passing a cigarette between them. Buffy couldn't guess what they were talking about shortly before the battle. Crowley. His mother. But they both seemed to be bonding well. In a manner more suitable than the plan to get rid of…

The troop of girls filing out the door distracted her. It was probably just as well.

They'd cleaned so much out of the Summers' household as far as toiletries, supplies, first aid. A shopping trip would have been on the itinerary very soon. Ordinarily, that would be the case.

Today, though, Buffy had told the Potentials to take care of all the food. Don't gorge but do eat. Because they would need to keep their strength up if they were to face the relentlessness of the Turok-Han.

So they did. All traces of food swept clean.

She was also afraid of weapons. They'd had to scramble to find enough . Her chest was just that now. An empty case that contained no evidence of the Slayer's tools of trade.

Wood went through his stash and distributed it appropriately. And, of course, Giles came through on his end. Everyone was armed appropriately.

Save for she and Spike.

Willow had Buffy's weapon for the spell--the revolutionary spell that would change everything. Throw out the Slayer Handbook for everybody now, not just her.

Buffy allowed her lips to turn up slightly. But only just. It was time for her to play General Park.

"MacArthur," Spike corrected later on the bus. "General MacArthur."

"Yeah, that's what I said. General MacArthur Park."

She was pleased that Spike didn't argue with her and accepted verbal defeat. The methods had changed but they still knew how to spar.. Though he sighed a bit exasperatedly for her taste. Buffy figured it was just vampire tension before the battle.

But as everyone had boarded the bus with the Potentials going first, the Scoobs second, followed by Giles and Wood. Buffy hung back to wait for Spike. She held his blanket and lingered at the basement door. Finally he strode up the steps with her jacket.

As ever the chivalrous gentleman--and he was a man now, Buffy noted proudly---Spike girded his Slayer with her fashionable armor. Then Buffy took the amulet and beckoned for Spike to bend forward. He did.

And fighting to stay strong for him, she placed the amulet around his neck. And stepped back to look at her champion.

She caressed his cheek for the briefest instant and gave him a watery smile. Whatever comes, whatever happens, they're in it together.

And she can't think of anyone else she'd rather have at her side. She handed him his blanket.

Taking a quick last look around at the Summers home, she briskly strode to the front door. Always looking ahead, never back.

Spike trailed her and opened the door for her. She nodded her thanks and walked out into the sun. Spike cloaked himself in the blanket, said a silent goodbye, an even more silent prayer, and left the house he thought he'd never be welcome to set foot in again.

Following the lady who he thought, not very long ago, would never welcome him into her heart.

They boarded the bus, Wood took the driver's seat, and like the countless other teachers she knew in high school, Buffy conducted roll call. Then the Slayer and her vampire champion drifted to the back where Wood had shaded the windows for Spike. Buffy's impatient insistence helped some. Followed by a reminder of her promise to him if he ever acted "funny" around Spike.

There they sat, and Spike tried in vain to give his Slayer a refresher course on General MacArthur.


	4. Chapter Four: Into the Hellmouth

One by one they peeled off from her. Willow left swiftly while Xander lingered with an affectionate squeeze of her hand. Friends who became family, then like extensions of herself.

And now following their own path.

Just as she was.

In the end, the Slayer is alone.

But if things went the way they were supposed to, all of that would change. Forever.

For the sumpteenth time that day, Buffy feared she was cracking up. Not only because of the plan, which had a certain brilliant insanity to it. Like Van Gogh. Or Van Halen. But she heard voices as she walked down the cavernous halls. From her past. The last seven years as the sole guardian of the Hellmouth.

The last voice she heard was a lower class English brogue. Cocky and arrogant. And deadly as sin. Delectable as sin. Considering her former enemy now lover had a soul and proved he was a good man, she could admit that dark little tidbit.

What can I say? Couldn't wait.

But he could. That's what Buffy had learned these past long months with Spike. He could wait. He's been waiting since he fell in love with her. Waiting for her to catch up.

It marvels Buffy even now to think that. That he had the faith in her to catch up. She had given him more than enough reasons to run away and stay away. But he came back.

He came back to her. And waited.

She wished she could share with her friends why she stood at his side so unconditionally. She wasn't even sure. Guilt? Pity? Love?

But she thinks about the unspoken commitment they made. She isn't sure when it was made. It could have been when he begged for death even though he wasn't in control of his actions. And then, remarkably, did the same thing down in the basement with the sole purpose to protect those who inhabited her house. Protect her. Or maybe when she rescued him and couldn't contain any semblance of Slayerial professionalism when she saw his face beam with grateful awe. No, that was more than a rescue. It was a bloody revelation.

But somewhere along the way, they made a pact to stand together through come what may. Walk, fight, _be_ side by side.No matter what. Friends betraying friends. Brief brow-beating to turn good human beings into warriors. Or just plain isolationist Slayer issues, they actually did it. They weathered the storm. They slept in each other's arms. They made love for the first time.

She fell behind, and he waited for her to catch up. And she did. And she knows she would do the same for him. Know that he would do his damndest to catch up with her.

Buffy turned the corner and saw him standing quietly, patiently. Ever fiber of his being focused on her proud walk to the Hellmouth. And Buffy met his eyes straight on. Not looking away. Not evading. But letting the connection they shared surge through her. Provide her with the strength to face Hell at his side.

And it was there that Buffy Summers made her promise. If they--No, _when they _won this war, things would keep improving between them, progressing, reaching a level of love and commitment she never knew was possible. Never saw herself of actually being capable of until now. And every moment, every second that life would prevent their heaven, they would make it their goal to reach for it regardless. Every gesture, every look as notes to the greatest symphony ever composed and performed. Every kiss as a holy act of privilege. Every moment of private embrace entwined in the dignity of the naked self, two into one, as sacred as a communion. And Buffy dared not let herself dream or hope for any more than that. Some wishes were just too powerful.

But for now this is what they are. A union. And she no longer fears falling, because he would be there to catch her, and she him. And Buffy would try as hard as she ever tried to show she loved, to tell him that she loved, to love him as much as he loved her.

She felt so honored, so proud to be at his side. To be a witness to one who loved so selflessly as he. She only hoped that one day she would master the lessons in love he had taught her. Make him just as proud. She caught up with him and they both turned to the basement door.

"Time to go to work, love,:" he said softly.

And together the shining lover warriors descended into the shrouding darkness.

DONE


End file.
